


Hope

by unknownbananna



Series: the thing with feathers [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (but they're all brief and non-explicit), Everyone has wings!!, Families of Choice, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Maximum Ride Au, No Knowledge of Maximum Ride Necessary, Peter and Harley are Tony's flock, mentions of human experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 15:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknownbananna/pseuds/unknownbananna
Summary: It's been a long time since "home" for Tony has meant a specific place. Now, home revolves around people. Specifically, home is two dorky boys with floppy hair and wings.(Or, my version of the Maximum Ride AU that's taking shape over at parkrstark's tumblr.)





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% inspired by the Max Ride AU that's happening over at parkrstark's tumblr. Go check it out—it's good stuff! I haven't read the MR series in a while, so I've taken some pretty serious liberties. Here's the important stuff about my version of the AU: Tony is kidnapped and given wings as an adult in some vaguely Afghanistan-ish scenario that's still pretty hazy in my head (let's ignore the science of all this; I know it's way different in the books), and he manages to escape. He lives on the run as a lone wolf, believing he's the only one of his kid. But several years later, he hears rumors that there are other experiments like him. He sneaks into a facility called The School, run by the same group that captured him, and finds that they've delved pretty far into human experimentation—specifically in the form of other human-animal hybrids, including two terrified boys with wide eyes and wings like Tony's. Tony frees them and helps them to escape, and eventually he takes them in as his own and they become his flock.

It’s just after six when Tony lands on the roof of their current hiding place, an abandoned apartment building on the edges of a New York suburb. He tucks his wings in close—it’s chilly in the early morning. The city’s skyline in the distance sends a pang through him as he remembers his life before everything changed, remembers the place he used to call home.

_Home._

“It’s too early for this,” Tony grumbles to himself. He gives his wings a flap, ruffling out his dark feathers in an attempt to shake away the melancholy as he heads over to the landing over the fire escape that leads inside.

Harley and Peter are already up. They’re hidden well from any prying eyes on the outside—from the window, they’re just lumps of shadow. Their forms only start to take shape as Tony climbs inside the bare room. The two of them are huddled against each other on the far wall, hoodie-clad, wings wrapped tight around themselves and each other in a feathery swath of tawny brown and speckled walnut.

As always, Tony feels a warm smile creeping up his face. “Morning, chickadees,” he greets fondly, his smile widening the way it really only does for his boys when they look over to him and return his smile.

“Good morning,” Harley and Peter echo in unison the way they do sometimes. They look tired. They always do, but the dark circles under their eyes are particularly pronounced this morning. Tony’s brow furrows in concern as he walks over to sit by them, in front of where they’re curled against the wall.

“It’s early yet,” he says softly. “What’re you two doing up?”

Harley shrugs. “Bad dreams,” he says in a low voice. Tony bites his lip.

“Both of you?”

Harley nods. Peter’s quiet.

Not for the first time, Tony swears to himself that if he ever finds the doctor who was responsible for what happened to his boys, he’ll kill them. It’s one thing to experiment on an adult, to shut him up in a white room and make him a guinea pig—it’s entirely another to starve children and lock them in dog crates in between what essentially amounted to torture sessions.

Tony sighs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to wake you two,” he says, and he means it. He doesn’t sleep too soundly any more—usually, he’s close enough to wakefulness that his subconscious can latch onto the whimpers and rapid breathing that signal a dream about The School. Tony’s grown used to the feeling of coaxing a trembling boy into wakefulness with gentle hands and open arms. He hates the idea of his boys waking up scared and alone.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter cuts in with a simultaneous shrug of his left shoulder and wing. The feathers rustle in the early stillness. “You look after us. You can’t be everywhere at once. And we’ll survive a few bad dreams.” The _we’ve had worse_ goes unspoken. Even so, it cuts Tony to the core.

Harley doesn’t give Tony time to get “sad and mopey”, as he would say, about it. “So what’s today’s game plan?” he asks, leaning forward slightly like a pro football player before the big game, and Tony snorts.

“Same as yesterday’s, and the day before that, and the day before that,” he snarks. _Pull yourself together, Tony._ “Stay together, stay alive, maybe have some fun while we’re at it. But first,” he says, pulling his messenger bag off his shoulder and revealing its contents with a flourish, “breakfast is served.”

Harley and Peter gasp in tandem delight. It’s understandable—the three challah loaves inside are perfectly woven, golden brown and still warm to the touch. And it’s been ages since they’ve had fresh bread.

“How did you get it?” Harley asks in a half-whisper that makes him sound like such a _kid_ , his hesitant marvel evident in the smile playing at the edges of his open mouth. Tony can’t help but grin.

“The woman at the Jewish bakery was feeling particularly generous, and apparently I was looking particularly sad and in need,” he says, passing a loaf to Peter and one to Harley. Harley snorts.

“She wasn’t wrong about either.”

Tony reaches out and whacks him. “No sassing your elders,” he says automatically, ignoring Peter’s sniggers in the background and waggling a warning finger in Harley’s direction. “We’re all sad. And I’ve got hungry mouths to feed. As long as there are baby birds in my nest, I’ll play up my PTSD-induced depression on the street all I want.”

“Maybe we can come with you next time,” Peter comments offhandedly as he tears off a hunk of bread. “Help out with your look, you know? Single dad, probably divorced, homeless-looking”—(he pointedly ignores Harley’s muttered _“we are homeless”_ )”—”accompanied by two sad boys with puppy eyes and dirt smudged all across their faces like in the old orphan movies—”

“Yeah, no,” Tony intervenes. “Not if you two don’t want to get scooped up by CPS and then immediately tossed into Area 51 when the government realizes you’ve got _wings._ Plus, you’re both children and shouldn’t be responsible for providing for food in the first place.”

“Actually,” Harley butts in, “I’m only 98% of a child.”

“Actually, you’re 100% a menace and I am no longer taking suggestions from you or your brother,” Tony cuts back smoothly. His face twists into a grimace of distaste as Harley rips off a humongous chunk of bread with his teeth and swallows. “And chew your food before you swallow, you disaster—just because you’re 2% bird doesn’t mean you have to eat like one and die a miserable death of bread-induced asphyxiation.”

Peter giggles as Harley rolls his eyes but nevertheless chews his next mouthful in exaggerated obedience. The good food and the teasing have brought some color back into their faces, and Tony rests in the knowledge that their smiles are genuine. Today is going to be hard, like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. But listening to his boys laughing, the sun rising pink and orange against the New York skyline behind them as they finally fill their bellies and steal a reprieve from the danger waiting for them outside—he knows they’ll be okay.

As long as he’s with his flock, he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love playing in this AU, so this is definitely going to be a series. You can find me on tumblr at marvelwhump, where I write about my favorite characters being hurt, hugged, or both.


End file.
